'The Hike' - Chapter Four - We Start Missing People Right After They're Really Gone
Day 4:
It felt strange to see the town I had escaped from appearing ahead of me after walking for what seemed like forever. Sofia lay right before me, asking me to come back — and that thought was sweet as honey, but only for a moment. Immediately, the ten long years of memories came rushing back and shattered the sweetness of that illusion. I remember this day because of the rain. It felt like a cloud was following us, and we were part of the song Why Does It Always Rain on Me? We were traveling to the next hut, me and the two guys from Gabrovo, who I found to be comforting company. Both of them were experienced, and even just having someone around at this time, I found to be a pleasure. I guess we only start missing people once they're truly gone. And for a while, alone in the mountain, the need to see someone — anyone — was overwhelming. Here, time moves differently. Every company and obstacle on the way distracted me from the pain I was trying to unload — that one guy who got away. Cheesy, I know, but back then the pain was even heavier than my backpack, and it held me back for years after. Seeing the city again brought all those memories rushing back.
I remember meeting this incredibly open guy who was a fireman. Nothing sexier than that. He was beautiful and crazy, damaged, bored with the normal, seeking whatever rock he hadn't turned yet. Right before the pandemic started, we had the best sexual nights, where we took a lot of drugs and just enjoyed ourselves to the deepest level you could think of. Our bodies talked without words. Oscar Wilde says, “You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.” And his song was screaming. There was pain there, a void that needed to be explored. I, as an adventurer, jumped right into it. The connection between us was born, and we started enjoying more of us, more frequently. Even though he was in an open relationship, for a while I had no problem with that. I was the perfect other guy, who was providing the best uncomplicated experience. I found myself catching real feelings, wanting to discuss those emotions. Sometimes, discussing them may kill the vibe. I did just that. I took this vibe, and I cut the head off it, and then I kicked it like I was the best football player, scoring for none of the teams that were in play. He lost the perfect fuck buddy, and I lost the guy I fell in love with.
It seems strange, but the most powerful emotions that I have ever experienced in my life were created just like that. I have the deepest connection with someone, doing drugs and having the best sex imaginable for a short period of time. We start everything with the idea of not looking for a relationship, and not long after, I develop feelings for these messed-up guys, expecting they’ll feel the same. Usually, the guy encourages my behavior with words and deeds, which is extremely wrong, I found. Lightning love, which you have no intention of responding to, is dangerous. Leaving such a fire could cost much. Unfortunately, going after the wrong guy is my specialty, and fires like that often burn my existence — like the one I am in now.
Either way, the pain was real — and I felt every bit of it. Finding words to describe what was so hard to explain years later was provoked by a recent déjà vu that took me out of my game for a while. It's not with the same magnitude, or I am just more equipped to handle it, but still, it shook me to my core. It will take some time for me to recognize this damaging pattern, and before I try to quit it in order to save my life. It is a mix of addiction and what I thought love is — to insert myself on damaged ground, trying to help the other overcome whatever they were going through, secretly dismissing the struggles of mine, escaping my own reality and responsibilities. Today, I had a call with a very close friend of mine, who told me that sometimes it is better to write and to release what you want to say. So I had to go forward and experience all over again those feelings, and going through them didn't make them disappear — only made me realize that it was kind of cool to experience such powerful emotions, even though they were just clouding my vision. We are complex creatures, and we are a summary of everything we go through in this life: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Back on the trail, on the way to the hut, the rain wasn't helping my situation. I was the bad and the ugly. Somewhere ahead of us, I hoped to find the good. My hiking clothes were basically the cheapest I could afford at that time, which now I realize the stupidity of. But when you have to do it, you just do it — even with the cheapest shoes you can find. Recently, on a hike in Scotland, I realized that no matter how expensive your shoes are, if it is raining all day, you are going to get wet. My shoes cost 25 lv., which is around 13 euro, and it was almost as if I was walking barefoot. That didn't stop me. The clothes I forgot to bring — the essentials for survival — were somewhere on the left, in Sofia, not that far away. The ones I had were the best I could, at that time, with the information I had. So I had to make peace with that and move forward, without giving it so much power. Of course, by the end of my journey, my feet looked like bleeding Holland cheese — yammy — but I pushed through this pain. A pain that could be easily avoidable if I wasn’t distracting myself with unavailable guys and if I only focused my potential on seeking knowledge that prevents such things.
We walked like crazy; these two guys really made me push through my pain, and after a while, the pain became bearable. I remember playing for the first time the new album of Taylor Swift — Folklore. Back then, I had no idea this album would become one of my favorites. But that first impression was literally washed away by the rain.
Hiking with someone doesn't necessarily mean that you have to speak all the time. Doing something with someone in silence sometimes is the best-spent time. We walked, and most of what I remember from this memorable day was the smell of the wet forest. For a long time, I thought that one of the guys just stank; it turned out that it was the freaking forest. It smelled like a wet, dead animal mixed with human sweat. I bet at this point of the journey, we all smelled like that, so maybe it wasn't the forest. I don't know. Walking while it’s raining the whole day, you get to learn the back of your companions, their shoes, like I mentioned, smells, and you adjust to their tempo. I was following. I needed someone to take the wheel and push me through. Finding these two guys changed my experience. Even though I was able to enjoy the views, the fear of being alone always disrupted the enjoyment. Sharing the path let me have this moment for myself. Feeling the protection of two other individuals that were bigger and stronger than me made me relax for a second and drop my guard.
I remember hearing somewhere: if you love the rain, why do you hide yourself under an umbrella? At this point, there was no hiding — I was soaked. There was no umbrella here, and my only protection from the rain was a raincoat made from the plastic used for supermarket bags. Walking the whole day on the moody ground took care of the lower part of my body, and trying to avoid the forest, covered with sharp bushes and plants, took care of my upper body armor. The path to the hut began to tighten and completely tore my protection, so when we started slowly going down in the last kilometer or so, I just removed the last plastic from my head and let the rain wash away my sorrows.
Finally, we stepped onto the grounds of the hut, finding there all that we needed. Murgash hut was a big building that looked terrible, but at this point of my journey, anything with a roof and food in it was more than I could wish for. I ate like never before. Even though I was abusing drugs, and normally — in the city — I could go without food for long stretches, here the starvation to taste something home-cooked was stronger than anything else. Whenever there was a cake in the huts, I ate cake.
Night 4:
Before I went to sleep, I ate almost everything on the menu, knowing that my next hike tomorrow would be bigger than the one we did today. The exhaustion from today brought on hunger like never before. Even though the rain was long gone and I had a roof over me, I continued to hear the rain and the drops long after my eyes were shut.
What I didn’t know then was that the next hike would take me to the Chavdar Hut — a place where I’d later spend months, and where I’d meet my best friend, someone who changed my life forever.
#TheHikeBook
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